


How It Should Have Been

by asrundream



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Bloodplay, Canon-Typical Violence, Denial of Feelings, Dom/sub, Eventual Smut, Flashbacks, Hate Sex, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Medical Experimentation, Monster Reaper, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pain, Painplay, Past Soldier: 76 | Jack Morrison/Angela "Mercy" Ziegler, Synesthesia, and maybe stabbed in the stomach mid-fuck, get ready for smoke tentacle sex, i'm not here for your cutesy falling in love shit, in like six chapters idk, it's going to end up explicit as fuck, let's suck each other's dicks but no romo, no really, rating is temporary, this is about wanting to get fucked up the ass and called puta, this is going to be filth, we'll get into the bad shit soon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-31
Updated: 2016-09-10
Packaged: 2018-08-10 05:07:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7831465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asrundream/pseuds/asrundream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack Morrison and Gabriel Reyes fall apart.</p><p>They fall back together.</p><p>And things start exploding all over again.</p><p>(It's a sex thing.</p><p>They do a sex.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The title is [a line Reaper says](https://hydra-media.cursecdn.com/overwatch.gamepedia.com/b/b4/Reaper_-_This_is_how_it_should_have_been.ogg) to ~~Daddy~~ Soldier: 76.

_O would, beloved, that you lay_   
_Under the dock-leaves in the ground,_   
_While lights were paling one by one._

* * *

Jack Morrison had always had a weakness. Years of training, fighting, wars. None of it had ever changed that fact.

He couldn't see behind him.

He could have one or a dozen people in his sights, but his back was open and vulnerable. He needed someone there to cover him. He needed someone to be the eyes in the back of his head.

But what happened when that person turned on him? What happened when they grew restless, and cold, and _betrayed him_ , and Jack fucking Morrison realized he was a goddamn idiot?

Gabriel Reyes was right in Jack Morrison's blind spot. His weakness had never gone away. He'd only gained a new one.

And then they both died.

It had been ten years and hundreds of times more deaths. Ana. Gérard. Countless humans and Omnics.

Jack became Soldier: 76. He got older. He got bitter.

He didn't just wear the visor for the sight it provided. It gave clarity, too, in the stillness of beating hearts and a finger on the trigger. Clarity that could've kept the pieces together at a time he tried to forget. Clarity, in that it showed him his own truth.

That it was so much easier to hide behind a mask and silence than to face the things he felt.

But science doesn't solve everything.

Technology can only go so far.

Distance and time will never heal all wounds.

Soldier: 76 had two weaknesses, and one of them was  _hungry_.


	2. Chapter 2

_Wanna fight?_  
_Wanna fuck?_  
_Wanna die?_  
_Try your luck_  
_Lay down your goddamn arms_

* * *

A man, a plan, a mission, Overwatch. At least that was the idea.

"Reyes should've cleaned up the Deadlock Gang a long time ago."

Of course, he hadn't, and it was on Soldier: 76 to go in with Tracer and Pharah and get the job done. In, out, dinner, drinks. A decent bed. Easy.

But there was a ghost in play.

"On your six!" he shouted to Pharah for the dozenth time. There hadn't been anyone on her one moment, and the next there was. Again. Every time he turned away and turned back, there it was - the wraith in black, mask a deformed skull, guns raised and firing recklessly. Reaper, the others called it.

He didn't need its name. Just a way to hurt it.

Soldier: 76 sprinted behind Pharah and threw down a biotic field for the third time, just as the ghost dissipated into smoke and nothing. Every goddamn time, like clockwork. Baiting him, the old soldier knew, but why? And how did it know the one way to keep him off balance?

If there was one thing he couldn't do in the flaming metal hellscape he'd been sent to, it was let Ana Amari's daughter die.

And if there was one thing no one in the Deadlock Gang should've known, it was that connection.

He watched Pharah fly off and Tracer blink through space. Heard a scream cut off - _neither of theirs, get your heart rate down, old man_ \- and scanned the canyon, visor HUD flashing to tell him there was no one there.

He backed against the red stone of a rock face for good measure and scanned again.

Empty.

"Hi, Jack."

There was nothing there, nothing fucking there, HUD flashing empty and smoke from the train wreckage just at the edge of sight--

He spun to face it a second too late.

The blow to his hand sent his gun flying, skidding across the ground out of reach. The sound of a snap reached him before the pain did, and he reached for the pistol at his waist to find that his fingers only smacked limply against it.

 _Too goddamn old for this. Too goddamn slow,_ he thought.

And, less pressing, _It knows my name._

The broken wrist ached hot and pulsing as he grabbed at the gun with his other hand.

"Give up, old man," the voice purred, this time out of a mouth hidden behind an alien mask.

He pulled out his knife instead.

"Shit!" the wraith hissed, and dodged.

It dodged the wrong way. The knife drove home, slipping between armored plates beneath the figure's arm and catching. Jack Morrison knew the feel of a knife in his hand slipping against muscle and bone, even if Soldier: 76 had tried to forget it.

"Not a ghost after all," he quipped, as the other man drew in a shaky breath.

And moaned.

"Nnnnnnh, fuck, Jack."

Soldier: 76's brain stuttered to a very confused halt. It didn't give him time to react before wicked claws were tight against his throat.

He twisted the knife.

"Fuck, yes," Reaper groaned, grip tightening. One claw scraped against Soldier 76's throat and dug in. "Fucking hurt me."

"That's... sick..." Soldier: 76 croaked, head spinning.

_Not the choking, I don't need to breathe so soon, can't be drugs, no one knows what works on me, not the fight, I'm not that old--_

The realization hit him at the same moment the sedative did.

His last thought before he went down was _But he knows me._

The last thing he heard as he laid on the ground was "You like it."


End file.
